


Surprising Knowledge

by twinsarein



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sam, Established Relationship, Gunplay, Hand Kink, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinsarein/pseuds/twinsarein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wonders why Dean’s bought a new gun, and why he then ruined it by getting rid of the sight. Dean has his reasons, and he’s going to share them with his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprising Knowledge

Stepping out of the motel room’s shower, Sam grabs a towel and rubs it quickly over his hair. Running it down his body, Sam avoids his hard cock. He’d thought about jerking off in the shower, but for once he and Dean don’t have to go out on a hunt. They’d killed the thing they were in town for last night, and still don’t have another case lined up. He’s kind of hoping they can take advantage of the downtime.

Not wanting to be too obvious right off the bat, Sam wraps the towel carefully around his waist, trying to get it to hold his erection down. He isn’t entirely successful, but at least it isn’t poking through the opening of the cloth. Damn small, motel room towels.

Opening the door, Sam quickly spies Dean right where he’d left him. At the table, cleaning their guns. Sam has to quickly suppress a moan when Dean suddenly moves into action, putting the gun back together quickly and efficiently.

Watching Dean is what had given him problems in the first place. He’d known he was going to be in trouble the moment Dean had spied the bigger than usual table in this motel room, and declared that their weapons hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned in too long. That meant taking them apart.

They’d been too tired last night, but it was the first thing Dean had started working on when he’d woken up. Before they’d become lovers, Sam had enjoyed helping Dean do that particular chore, and he’d always admired his older brother’s economical movements, his hands competent, steady, and sure.

Once Sam had felt those same hands moving over him, though, wringing pleasure out of him with little effort, watching Dean clean the guns had become an exercise in torture. Every movement turned sexual. When Dean thrust the bore brush in and out of the barrel or the cylinders, Sam could only picture how that same movement felt as Dean’s fingers thrust in his ass.

When Dean would rub the cloth over the outside, making the metal shine like new, Sam could only picture those hands rubbing over his skin, thumb sliding over the slickness on the head of his cock...

Shaking his head, Sam forces himself back into the present. He’d done his share of the cleaning, before his desire had sent him to take an unneeded shower. Right now, he really wishes he’d let himself jerk off under the spray, because his thoughts are not helping the small towel contain his erection anymore. He does his best to adjust it before Dean realizes he’s standing there watching him.

The last gun on the table is one that Sam doesn’t completely recognize, although it does look familiar. Dean is just doing a routine cleaning, which means it’s a newer weapon.

Curiosity aroused, Sam walks closer to the table. His eyes widen when he gets a closer look, ignoring the twitch his cock gives at the sight. “Jesus, Dean, that’s the longest barrel I’ve ever seen on a handgun. Where did it come from?”

Getting out the bore brush, Dean doesn’t answer at first, and Sam has to bite back a whimper. When the answer comes, Sam almost misses it, mesmerized as he is by Dean’s hands on that gun. “I bought it yesterday while you were researching. It saved our asses last night.”

The last sentence has Sam flashing back to their hunt for the werewolf. He’d been right beside Dean when he saw him raise his gun from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t dared look over because they were being charged, but that’s why the gun looked familiar. Even in the midst of the danger, Sam had gotten hard at the glimpse of that long-barreled gun in his brother’s hand.

Then it fired, and they were checking the monster’s body, cleaning up, and high-tailing it away from the scene as police sirens blared closer. He’d forgotten to ask about it after all that.

Looking at it more carefully now, something about it seemed off. He looks at the long, smooth barrel of it, and then it strikes him. “Where’s the sight?”

“I took it off. Sanded the barrel down.”

Abruptly said, with no other explanation behind it. Sam looks down at Dean in surprise. “You took it off? Sanded it...That’s a Smith and Wesson 500, one of the best hunting handguns in the world. Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t gotten one of those before, but taking the sight off would ruin it. Why would you do that?”

“It worked fine last night, so I guess I’m just that awesome. Besides, its probably going to be ruined as a gun after today, anyway.”

Automatically, Sam protests the awesome part of the statement. “Maybe in your dreams, Dean. How can you ruin it any more that you already have. What are you going to do to it today?”

Finishing the cleaning with a last rub, Dean spins the cylinder before a twist of his wrist has it slotting back into place. Then he suddenly stands up, gun still in hand, and turns to Sam. “I know you much better than you think, Sam. How unobservant a lover do you think I am?”

The complete non sequitur has Sam looking at his brother in confusion. “What? Unobservant? Dean, I don’t--”

When Dean raises the hand holding the gun to Sam’s shoulder, the long barrel pressing into his cheek, Sam breaks off with a loud swallow. “You think I don’t notice the way you watch my hands now, especially when I’m cleaning the guns? You think I haven’t noticed you adjusting yourself almost every time I hold one?”

Dean’s hand starts sliding down, still holding the gun. Sam whimpers at the first touch of warm hand on his chest, but a small moan escapes when he feels the cold metal of the gun follow behind. Sam’s eyes widen in shock at the sound, and he looks at Dean in surprise, instinctive younger brother protest about being that easily read on his lips. A protest Dean doesn’t give him a chance to voice.

Understanding in his eyes, Dean looks back with a slight smirk on his face. “You didn’t know. You thought it was just my hands. Or, you convinced yourself that's all it was. Maybe you just didn’t want to admit that the thought of the guns we use to kill the things that want to kill us turns you on.”

Shaking his head at that idea, Sam isn’t sure if it’s in denial of what Dean had said, or at the thought that Dean knows him better than Sam knows himself. All thinking ceases, though, when Dean drags the gun’s rubber grip over his nipple, causing the small bud to harden.

Whimpering at the sensation, Sam sways forward, inadvertently pressing the gun harder against his skin. His towel really is becoming useless. Dean’s eyes flash, but then he continues. “But, that’s one of my job’s as a big brother - to strip you of all your illusions of yourself and make you face the truth. Even if you don’t want to. My job as a lover, however, is to help you make all your fantasies come true. Luckily for you, I’m an all-in-one deal.”

As Dean talked, he’d slowly been backing Sam up. When the back of Sam’s knees hit the foot of the bed, Dean pushes, sending Sam sprawling. He catches himself on his elbows, though, so he can see what’s happening. Dean very quickly straddles him, and slides the gun down over his stomach, where he traces the top of the thrice-damned towel.

Eyes fluttering closed at the sight and feel of it, the idea of it, Sam forces them open to stare up at Dean, who’s watching him intently. Then, Sam’s eyes flicker down to the gun, and his breath hitches as Dean works the barrel under the cloth, and slowly pulls up.

Sam can’t help rolling his hips up when the towel finally falls away, and he looks down at himself, surprised at how engorged his cock is when Dean has hardly done anything. Lust is curling low in his belly, though, and Sam has to admit it’s a combination of Dean...and the gun.

The gun, which is suddenly right in front of his face. Instinctively, Sam jerks back. “Suck it, Sam.”

All the warnings about having a gun pointed at you go through Sam’s head at once. Lessons taught to him by his father, Bobby, even Dean. They count for nothing compared to how much he loves and trusts his big brother.

With no more than that split-second hesitation, Sam opens his mouth and sucks in several inches of the barrel. He keeps his eyes on his brother as he swirls his tongue and sinks down further. He can taste the oil used to clean it, along with a faint trace of gunpowder, plus the metallic tang of it.

The cool metal warms in his mouth, and when Dean angles it to draw it along the top of his palette, Sam feels his stomach clench and his cock throb. “Fuck, Sam. I can’t believe you’re letting me do this. God, it’s so hot that you want it, that you want me to do it to you.”

Then the gun is drawn from his mouth, but Sam doesn’t have a chance to miss it, or feel empty. Instead, Dean is suddenly bending lower, pushing his tongue past Sam’s unresisting lips. Sam gives as good as he’s getting, so turned on already that he feels ready to explode, and his dick hasn’t even been touched yet.

The way Dean is hovering over him, though, is causing his untucked shirts to hang down, and the fabric is brushing the slightest of teasing touches along his rigid flesh. The brief flashes of sensation are frustrating because of his heightened awareness.

Sam tries to arch up for more friction, but Dean’s hand on his hip stiffens, preventing the movement. That, and the feel of the gun along his side, the spit-wet metal rapidly cooling in the room’s air, help keep him grounded. However, they also serve to work him up even more, desire curling low in his belly.

Without any warning, two lubed fingers are pushed into him, and the resulting stretch and burn help pull Sam back from the orgasm that had already been building. He doesn’t know when Dean lubed himself up, but as his brother starts to finger fuck him in ernest, Sam decides he doesn’t really care.

Spreading his legs further, Sam tilts his hips to give Dean better access. Dean rewards him by moving his fingers deeper, and harder, stretching him wider. Even with the lube, the glide of Dean’s fingers doesn’t feel completely smooth. Sam can feel the work-roughened skin of Dean’s fingers brushing against his sensitive, inner walls. That’s just one of the reasons that Sam loves Dean’s hands, though, so the not-quite friction-free slide just ratchets Sam’s tension higher.

When Dean starts pressing his thumb to the stretched skin of Sam’s rim, and then sliding it up to press against his perineum, Sam’s head starts to thrash on the pillow. He plants his feet on the bed, and thrusts his hips up trying to get more. The movement makes the wet head of his cock slap against his belly.

Shuddering at the feeling, at the sight of himself leaking onto his stomach, Sam reaches down to take himself in hand. He’s thwarted when Dean reaches out with the hand holding the gun to block him, giving Sam a pointed look and a shake of his head.

The cold metal of the gun along his cock is a shock, but not enough of one to help calm Sam down. In fact, the sight of the gun touching his erection, even though not with intent, made it worse. Sam is feeling at the end of his rope. “Just fuck me, Dean. Please. Please, just fuck me. Want to be filled. Want to feel you. Please, Dean. Please.”

If he wasn’t so turned on, Sam might be embarrassed by how quickly he’d been reduced to begging. The hands, the gun, Dean still being dressed while Sam is completely naked, is all more than Sam can take.

Dean seems to have other ideas, however. “Yeah, I’m going to fill you up, Sam, but not with my dick.”

It takes a few seconds to process that, but when Sam looks down, he sees Dean pouring lube directly onto the barrel of the gun. His entire body spasms, and he only manages to not come by the skin of his teeth. Unconsciously, his legs fall open even wider, and he stares as Dean coats the long barrel liberally.

“Hold yourself open, Sam.”

Sam isn’t sure why he isn’t coming from that husky command alone. Or maybe he is, and he’s just too far gone to tell. He has trouble coordinating his limbs, but eventually he manages to reach down and get a hand on each ass cheek. Dean might help, but again Sam isn’t sure what’s happening anymore. He feels as though his entire being is comprised of one nerve large nerve ending.

He digs his hands into his own ass in the hopes that it might help ground him a little, but the slight pain just makes him shake some more. Then, he feels the cold, blunt head of the gun at his entrance, and he cries out wordlessly and lifts his hips. Hands pulling his ass as open as he can. Presenting himself for whatever Dean wants to do.

Fear is mixed with the desire, but not fear that the gun will go off, not really, although the hint of danger is mixed in there, but fear that it won’t fit. It isn’t that its too wide, Dean’s cock is definitely quite a bit bigger, but the shape is odd - like a rounded rectangle, and unlike a cock, there’s no give to it.

Almost desperately Sam slides his fingers further, feeling them catch on the slippery rim of his hole, bumping into the barrel of the gun. He pulls, trying to widen himself further, and he can dimly hear Dean swearing softly above him. Blood is roaring in his ears though, and he can’t make out what his brother is saying.

Slowly, the gun is pushed past his rim, and he cries out again as he spasms around it, drawing it even deeper into himself. Just when he thinks he’s taken it all, Dean shoves it in a little more. Finally, he feels Dean’s knuckles brush his balls, and Sam knows it can’t go any further.

Sam still has trouble coordinating, but when Dean doesn’t move for a few seconds, Sam gets desperate enough that he starts rocking in place on the bed, trying to fuck himself on the gun.

He whines when he can’t get a good rhythm going right away, but finally his muscles start cooperating, and he starts moving in ernest. He can hear Dean inhale sharply as he moves his hips. “Jesus fucking Christ, Sam. That’s it. Fuck yourself on my gun. Love how you’re taking it, your ass just sucking it in.”

Dean’s voice sounds wrecked, and Sam tries to focus on his brother, but then Dean shifts around and starts moving the gun. Slowly, but steadily, it’s fucked in and out of him. The barrel isn't nearly as wide around as Dean, but the shape and coolness of it make it impossible to forget what he has inside him. The idea makes him gasp and moan as Dean keeps moving it. Sam doesn't think things can get much better. At least, not until two fingers are shoved into his mouth.

As the fingers slide along his tongue, Sam tastes gun oil and lube, but under that is pure Dean. Sam moans at the taste, at knowing that one of Dean’s hands is inside of him again. He tries to suck on the fingers in his mouth, but even that coordination is hard. He feels saliva dribbling down his cheek as he slurps and sucks messily on them.

When Dean suddenly shifts the angle of the gun so that it presses on that spot inside him, the one that makes Sam see stars, Sam almost chokes himself on Dean’s fingers when he arches his back and neck up at the explosion of feeling.

Being fucked in both holes at once the way he is, his prostate being continually stimulated, Sam wonders again why he hasn’t come. He groans in frustration as he tries to thrust down on the gun. He can feel his orgasm coiled deep and ready to spring, but he can’t seem to tip over.

He’s shivering from head to toe, and gasping for breath. He can feel sweat gathering in the hollow of his neck, even as precome pools on his stomach. His hands are clenching and unclenching in the sheets under him, and he can’t open his legs any wider, but he wants to.

“So hot, Sam. I want to keep watching you take it, but you’re ready to come, aren’t you? I can see it building in you, in how your abs are rippling, in how hard and leaking your cock is, in how tight your balls are. I almost want to see how long I can keep you like this, but I can’t take much more myself, right now. So, show me, Sam. Let me see you fly apart. Come for me now, Sam!”

Body bowing almost completely off the bed, feet and head his only points of contact with the mattress, Sam cries out as his orgasm slams through him, rocking him to his core. His hips jerk uselessly into the air, and Sam feels his come dotting his body - hitting his chest, a bicep, the opposite hand, neck, and his chin. He hears Dean gasp, but can’t focus his eyes to find out why. Sam isn’t sure how long it goes on, but when it’s over, his body drops back on the bed, boneless and as sated as he’s ever felt. He barely even twitches when Dean slides the gun out.

As blissed out as he’s feeling when Sam back settles on the bed, he clearly hears the sound of a zipper being drawn down, and he opens his eyes a crack to see Dean reaching in and pulling out his own cock. If he had the energy, Sam would gasp at how engorged it looks. He can’t imagine the discomfort Dean must have been feeling, to have that pressing against his pants, or into the metal teeth of his zipper.

There is also come on Dean’s face, and Sam wonders if the gasp he heard was due to the surprise of Sam’s release reaching that far. While Sam watches, the comes trickles down Dean’s cheek, and Dean’s tongue snakes out to lick it up. Too exhausted to move, Sam still wishes he could reach out a finger to scoop the rest up and feed it to his brother.

Focusing back on the here and now, Sam hears Dean hissing as he touches himself, and the grip that his brother has around his cock looks gentle, as though he can barely stand the touch. Sam wants nothing more than to sink his mouth down around it, but he still can’t move. He whimpers his distress and licks his lips.

In spite of the light hold, Dean throws his head back, a harsh groan ripping from his throat, and with no other touch than that, is coming all over Sam’s stomach. Sam lets out a small groan of his own at the sight of his older brother coming virtually untouched, and he again wishes he had enough energy to do more than just watch.

Instead, he just lies there, even when Dean slumps over him. Sam’s muscles still feel as though they are made of jelly or else he’d wrap his arms around his lover and hold him close. Dean seems to understand, though, as he reaches up with his clean(er) hand and ruffles Sam’s hair.

Grunting in acknowledgement, Sam, for the first time, thinks that it might not be so bad to be with someone that knows him as well as Dean. Nuzzling into Dean’s neck, Sam lets himself drift off, feeling secure in the knowledge that there was still someone in the world who knows him better than he knows himself.


End file.
